Joe reluctantly approached the table, stealing a glance at lady Penelope’s guest. The woman gazed at Joe, before she quickly looked away. John looked at Lady Penelope, and when he got closer, he wrapped her in a hug. They exchanged warm smiles and immediately they pulled away Lady Penelope spoke up, "I thought you’d forgotten all about me." She said in a slow tone. Joe shook his head, smiling apologetically. "How could I? I’ve just been so busy with the family business." Lady Penelope’s face softened. "I know you have, and I'm just teasing you. I heard about the break-in. I’m glad nothing was taken."Joe smiled instead of responding , the memory of that unsettling night flickering through his mind. "How are the investigations going?" she asked, with a concerned tone. "The police are still on it, and they haven’t updated us yet," Joe replied. "I hope they catch whoever is behind it," she said earnestly. "So do I," he murmured, his eyes flickering away from hers, landing on th
Joe looked at Hannah with a stunned expression, though he quickly tried to mask it. "I have no idea what you’re talking about," he said, forcing a casual tone and averting his eyes. He couldn't let her see how rattled he was; this was because he didn’t want to get involved with her, especially when it came to this issue. Hannah’s gaze remained on Joe. "You can play dumb all you want, but I’m not buying it, Joe." Her voice was sharp, and she sounded angry. "I’m searching for answers about my father’s death, too, and I know you’re doing the same." Joe clenched his jaw. He wanted to speak so badly, but a part of him warned him not to. Instead, he moved toward his car, opening the door quickly. "I’m not searching for anything, Hannah," he replied, sliding into the driver’s seat. He looked up at her, forced a polite but empty smile, and added, "Good luck finding out who killed your father." He turned the key in the ignition, and he was about to pull out of the driveway when her vo
When Joe arrived at his office, the minute he stepped in, he noticed that Hannah was leaning casually against the wall. She met his eyes with a half-smile, which Joe failed to return. "I was hoping you'd text me back quickly," she said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Since you didn’t, I thought I’d check up on you in person."He stopped a few feet away from her, crossing his arms. "You don’t know when to quit, do you?"Her eyes glinted. "I don’t quit easily when there’s something worth fighting for.""And what exactly do you think is worth fighting for here?" he challengedShe leaned closer, her expression hardening. "Answers, Joe. The same ones you’re looking for." He felt his defenses weaken slightly. She had the same drive and the same need for answers as he did. Sadly, he didn’t want her involved in his personal issue.“You’re getting this wrong Hannah.” Joe said and the next word that spilled out of his lips were lies.“I’m not in looking for anything; meaning I don’t need your he
Joe arrived at the location Hannah had given him; it was a small cottage house. He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as he looked around. The place looked like something out of a fairy tale, with its soft pastel exterior and white picket fence. Before he could even knock, the door opened, and he saw Hannah standing on the porch with her usual half-smile.“Welcome,” she said, gesturing for him to come inside.Joe stepped into the cottage, and his first impression was almost overwhelming. The space was decorated with pink flowers and delicate lace. It looked like something out of a dollhouse, and he didn’t expect Hannah to leave in a place like this or even like the color pink.She acted like a reserved person who preferred white-colored walls and matching curtains. Joe remembered the saying never judge a book by its cover, and that made him bite down on a smirk, fighting to keep his expression neutral. Hannah seemed to catch his gesture, and she raised an eyebrow.“If you’re about
Joe sat on his living room couch, his eyes staring at the figure right beside him. It was Sunday, and he had spent most of the weekend searching for connections between his father and the names Hannah had given him. So far, he had only found documents relating to one: Ken Sanchez. His father’s business records showed proposals from Sanchez, though Joe hadn’t uncovered anything deeper than that. He decided to rest from his little search and hang out with Timothy, who had shown up at his house as early as eight. Timothy, lounging on the opposite end of the couch, broke Joe's concentration with a teasing voice. "So, you've been hanging out with Hannah recently, huh?" He asked. Joe rolled his eyes at Timothy. "Don't start, Timothy," he muttered. “Why are you hiding all the details from me?” Timothy said. “I tell you about my flings all the time.” “Or isn’t she a fling?” He asked, and Joe pretended not to hear him. “Is this like a potential relationship?” Timothy asked more qu
Joe stopped looking at Hannah, and he took a step forward, his shoes crunching on the shattered glass spread across the floor. His gaze fixated on the broken window, where a thick rope dangled down toward the street below. “How did this happen?” Joe murmured as he tried to piece together. The breeze from the open window ruffled the papers strewn about the room. Hannah’s face was displayed her frustration as she examined the rope. “He ran away,” she said with a sigh. “That’s the only logical explanation.” “But why?” Joe asked, still not moving his eyes from the broken window. “He knew we weren’t here to hurt him, right?” “Of course, I made it very clear I wanted to gain answers, nothing more,” Hannah replied, rubbing her temples “Maybe it was your tone of approach!” Joe said, trying to lighten the mood, despite the fact that he was hurt. “Seriously?” Hannah asked, and her voice caught Joe’s attention. “So that’s what you’re going with?” “I’m trying to be logical here but yo
The man didn’t listen to Joe’s words. He kept running, and Joe didn’t stop. When he arrived at a turning down the street, Joe could see the person more clearly now—he was muscular and had really tall legs, but the hoodie he wore made it hard for him to see his face. Joe tried to pick up his pace, hoping that if he got closer, he would be able to get a clearer view of the man’s face. But just as he was gaining ground, the man darted to the right and disappeared down an old trail. Joe’s legs came to a stop, catching his breath as he peered down the path. There was no sign of him. Frustrated, Joe turned and retraced his steps back to the estate. The box was still where he had left it, lying on the ground. He picked it up and stepped inside the estate. Back in his room, he set the box on the table and tore it open. As he peeled back the flaps, he found a small envelope and a stack of photos. His heart pounded as he glanced through them. The photos were of him, taken fro
After calling Jeremy several times and not receiving a reply, Joe started his car and headed towards his office. As he entered the building, his eyes caught sight of John talking to Mr. Maxwell at the receptionist's desk. The moment he got closer, Mr. Maxwell's voice rang out, and he didn’t sound pleased. "Where have you been, Joe?" Mr. Maxwell asked, and there was a drop of frustration in his voice. Joe paused for a moment, quickly collecting his thoughts. "I had things to attend to," he said with an apologetic shrug. Mr. Maxwell's brow furrowed as he glanced over at John. "One of the biggest investors in the city showed up today—he’s a close friend of Mr. Leon's. And thanks to John here, who managed to convince him to reschedule his meeting, if he didn’t step in when he did who knows what would have happened." Mr. Maxwell’s eyes drilled into Joe. He was clearly irritated. Joe was about to speak, but Mr Maxwell stopped him. "Jeremy tried to call you several times.” H
“You’re going to be our eyes and ears,” John said flatly, as he flickered his gun about. “You’ll let us know every move the Sanchez gang makes before they make it. Got it?” The man’s eyes widened in panic. “I can’t do that! If they find out—if they even suspect—I’m dead! My family’s dead!” John didn’t flinch. He lowered the gun slightly, only to press it firmly against the man’s chest. “If you don’t do what I’m telling you, you’ll be dead a lot sooner.” The man froze, trembling under the cold weight of John’s words. “It’s better you just kill me now,” he said hoarsely, his voice cracking. John sighed, the frustration was very clear in his voice. “You’re not thinking straight. This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s about your family and your life.”The man didn’t say a thing, and John leaned forward. “Don’t you get it! We are offering you an opportunity here.”“That doesn’t sound like an opportunity.” The man said in a flat tone. “Just kill me like I said before.”“For the lo
The car rolled to a quiet stop, its headlights cutting through the darkness of the neighborhood. Rusty buildings lined the empty streets. The silence was unnerving, broken only by the occasional shuffle of rats scurrying through the debris. Joe sat in the passenger seat, his brows furrowed as he stared out at the scene in front of him. “This doesn’t look safe,” Joe muttered under his breath. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” John, sitting behind the wheel, didn’t look half as worried. He leaned back in his seat, a small smirk playing on his lips. “What, are you scared?” he teased. Joe shot him an annoyed look. “I feel like I’ve walked into the lion’s den. Don’t you think we’re being a little reckless?” John waved off the concern with a hand. “Relax, Joe. Nothing’s going to happen. Besides, if you’re scared, you can stay in the car. Hide out here while I do all the work.” Joe narrowed his eyes. “I’m not staying in the car. That’s not happening.” John chuckled
Joe stared at the screen, as his hands moved swiftly across his screen. Once the message was sent he turned to John. “Done!” John smiled. “Good!” “What do we do now?” Joe asked. “We wait for his reply.” John said, in a low tone. John sighed, staring at the open sky. Him and John didn’t say anything, for what felt like minutes until John decided to break the silence. “Any messages?” Joe pulled out his phone which he had kept in his pocket. The dim light from his phone screen illuminated his face as he stared at the message he had sent to Victor minutes ago. Victor hadn’t replied the text and Joe informed John about it. “We would just have to wait a little.” John said. Minutes passed. Then half an hour. Still no reply. Joe sighed and tossed his phone into his pocket , rubbing his temples. “Any word yet?” John’s voice rose. Joe shook his head, glancing up at him. “No. Nothing.” John folded his arms, leaning forward , before speaking. “Well, you texted him. That’s a fir
“So, where exactly are we going?” Joe asked, in a firm tone John kept his eyes on the road, gripping the wheel confidently. “You’ll see.” Joe frowned slightly, shifting in his seat. “You’ve been driving for almost an hour, John. You took the wheel like you had somewhere specific in mind.” John smirked faintly but didn’t look at him. “I do.” “And where is that?” Joe pressed, turning his head toward him. John’s jaw twitched as though he was mulling over his response. “Just wait and see how.” Joe let out a small, tired laugh. “I don’t think I have that patient.” “Well, too bad,” John said firmly. “It looks like you’re going to have to acquire a bit of patience today.” Joe shook his head, staring back out the window. “This is worse than standing in line for ice-cream.” “What a nice way to describe this moment,” John said in a corky tone and Joe wasn’t buying his corkiness in fact he didn’t like it, but he didn’t say anything. The car kept rolling, and it felt like they were dri
When Joe rounded the corner, the sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks. Mr. Adam was there, sleeves rolled up, fists bloodied. Two men—beaten to a pulp—were slumped against the wall, barely conscious. Mr. Adam’s face was a storm of fury as he grabbed one of them by the collar and hoisted him up, delivering another brutal punch to his ribs. The man cried out, while his companion looked on with fear in his eyes. “Mr. Adam!” Joe shouted, stepping forward. “That’s enough!” Mr. Adam didn’t look up, his chest heaving as he pinned the man against the wall with one arm. “Stay out of this, Joe,” he growled. “I’m not done.” Joe, undeterred, moved closer. “I said enough!Look at them! They’re done. You’re going to kill them if you keep this up.” Mr. Adam finally turned his head toward Joe. “Maybe that’s what they deserve.” Joe stood his ground, his voice was firm as he spoke. “They’re just pawns, Adam. This isn’t going to solve anything.” Mr. Adam released the man, who dropp
The days leading up to the launch party for Joe’s new corporation were filled with relentless work, late nights, and endless planning. The fact that things had been stable contributed to making Joe’s planning easier. There were no threats, no near misses, and no weird messages. Life, for a brief moment, felt… calm. This made Joe feel relaxed. A day before the launch, Joe and John drove to the new corp’s headquarters to finalize preparations. The building itself was modern and striking—sleek lines of glass and steel that gleamed in the sunlight. As Joe stepped out of the car, his gaze swept across the building, and a rare smile tugged at his lips. John stood beside him, hands in his pockets, and observed Joe’s quiet pride. “You know,” John began, breaking the silence, “your father would be proud.” Joe turned to him, a small laugh escaping. “You think so?” “Yeah,” John said sincerely. “Not just proud, Joe—he’d be impressed. You’re doing something he never could. You’re tur
The day of John’s mother’s remembrance was quiet and intimate, just as John had wanted. The house was transformed into a warm and welcoming space with simple decorations—a few family photographs, candles, and flowers placed strategically around the living room. Lady Penelope was among the first to arrive, dressed elegantly in a navy blue dress. She greeted John with a tight hug, expressing her condolences. “I told you she was the best of the best.” Lady Penelope said after freeing John from her hug. Her eyes were on Joe, who immediately understood what she was talking about. “Madeline did a good job.” He said. “I’m really happy that things turned out well.” John looked between the two. “I’m lost here.” “Lady Penelope had referred me to the event planner who decorated the house.” Joe said. Without hesitation John thanked Lady Penelope, who waved off his thanks letting him know she was just helping. When John and lady Penelope stepped inside, Joe stood at the entrance, ensurin
Joe wandered aimlessly through the house the next day each room feeling more suffocating than the last. He shuffled through the house, aimlessly moving from one room to the next. He felt restless, like he couldn't find a place where he could sit still. His thoughts kept circling back to everything that had happened—his father, the gang, Hannah, the endless pressure. The walls of the house felt like they were closing in on him. As he walked into the study, something caught his eye. Tucked in the corner of the room, almost hidden beneath a pile of books, was a scarf. It was a soft, pale blue fabric. He recognized it immediately as Hannah’s. His heart lurched in his chest. He stood there for a moment, staring at it, and then the weight of it seemed to drop on him. His mind flashed back to all the time they spent together, the conversations, the moments that seemed to matter. But that was over now. He had to let go. "Roland!" Joe called out, his voice rough. Roland appeared almos
The day started like any other for Joe, with him arriving at the office early to tackle a packed schedule. He greeted Jeremy, and moved through the lobby, his focus already on the list of meetings he had ahead. But as he approached his office, his steps slowed. Something was out of place—a box sat on the floor right in front of his door. Joe frowned. Packages weren’t unusual, but this one was different. It was unmarked, plain brown, with no indication of where it came from. His instincts kicked in, a chill creeping down his spine. "Jeremy!" he called out in a sharp voice. Jeremy appeared almost instantly, confusion etched on his face. "Yes, Mr. Whitmore?" "What is this?" Joe pointed at the box. Jeremy looked at it, puzzled. "I don’t know. It wasn’t there when I got here." Joe’s unease deepened. "Has anyone checked this? Who delivered it?" "I’ll check with security," Jeremy said quickly, already pulling out his phone. Joe debated waiting but decided against it. He cr